Lilac Street

Down by the canal; I feel you through the pavement, through the asphalt. I pass by shops and vendors, people shuffling on down the sidewalk - the early spring light embracing London. These memories were never ours, yet you are here, always here, walking next to me - even though the only sound I hear is the echo of my own footsteps. I walk on; floating images surprising me with their crispness, their sharpness and focus, but they all have fuzzy edges - like polaroids taken in a distant past. It's a strange equation; I lived through it all alone and you were never here, yet you never really left me.

I get mystified by how this city screams your name.

Bonnie and Clyde

Your eyes meet mine over that first drink since forever and I know you are thinking the same thing I am. How the hell did we get here – are we moving backwards? X marks the spot where we fell apart and even though we never had a shotgun shot in the dark I still wear your words like tattoos. You reach across the table for my hand just like always.

“I have the getaway car – are you brave enough?”, you say as you finish your drink in one swig, then you are on your feet and my mind is a mess (as always around you).

I think about the fact that only the young can run. I think about the fact that all is relative and then I follow you out into the night towards a different life in-between maybes.  

Just down the road

Some days, some hours, minutes and seconds away I know another reality is hiding. The pathway is only visible at twilight; exploding and imploding in silver light pouring out of the sky. The harsh lines of the cubicles surrounding me are blurring - the shadows are getting longer and longer until they seem to reach the sky, all the while the silver of the dusk overpowers London, leaving me spellbound, enclosed by the delicate beauty of life.

Walking the Walk

Alleys of grey slab and concrete surround our street just like they do all other pathways in this merciless and majestic city. The difference is that their curves remain soft and tranquil as they seem to caress the bend ahead. I will take our street with me, but the rest I give away to the lowest bidder. The hard-lined skyscrapers and cubes you call houses, the busy road where cars pass endlessly towards somewhere, anywhere but here. Empty eyes and hungry bellies in lonely alleyways, hollow faces in doorways staring back at me as I walk on towards something luckier. It is an evening that manages to be deadly silent, but still so loud I can hardly breathe – the knot in my chest increasing with every sound until it consumes me. I gasp in the cold winter air of a new year, the blood pumping, my heart beating hard against my ribcage. The door to the world just closed and I can feel it in every cell, in every strand of strawberry blonde hair – the knowledge of something lost radiates through the very core of who I am. 

Change is approaching fast now, and it is welcomed. I know it will have a salty twang, but life is never one dimensional so a bit of sweet and sour will be thrown in as well. Regardless, I will remain upright. I am ready. You are not here, but still guiding my path towards where I should have been (stayed?) all along. This road, these cubes, this city of concrete and steel will be what my nightmares are made of for a while but that’s OK, I don’t sleep much these days.

I’ll take our street with me into a different future though. See you down there in my dreams if nowhere else.

I am ready.